


Assumptions Unlimited

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goku loses his limiter. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assumptions Unlimited

It was a good thing Hakkai and Gojyo were still downstairs, because it was their wall the headboard was banging up against. Thump, thump, thump. And maybe the people downstairs could hear it anyway, and maybe the card game in the corner had paused, and that family had looked up from their dinner, and the harried servers were letting dishes go cold on their trays as they all stopped and stared up at the ceiling. Sanzo could picture it all too well.

He just didn't give a shit. He was tired, they'd been on the road for days, and now that Hakkai and Gojyo were _insisting_ on rooming together for the moment--it was their headboard he'd be hearing in another few hours--that left him with the monkey. A newly-aware, just-as-insistent, fucking _eager_ monkey that would keep him up all night with his _"Saaaaaanzo,"_ and his hopeful eyes and his curious, wandering fingers.

Sanzo was a man on a mission. India, sutras, Minus Wave, fine--but more importantly? Put Goku _out_ for a few hours of peace and quiet.

Which...perhaps wasn't quite as distasteful a chore as he would have liked. The lean shape under him writhed and arched on the sheets, arched _into_ him, both their bodies slick with sweat. Goku's legs were locked around him, the bunched muscles of thighs and calves pulling him closer on every thrust. Sanzo already had bruises on his upper arms from clutching fingers, so now he leaned on bony wrists, pinning them to the mattress. It wouldn't help much if Goku really wanted to be free, but it would do as a reminder. It wasn't Sanzo who had to be careful here.

"S-Sanzo," Goku breathed, lashes fluttering as his eyes tried to roll shut, head tipping back into the pillows to bare the vulnerable line of his throat. And that was fine, that was exactly what he wanted to see--Goku had to be close, so close just about anything would do. Sanzo thrust in hard, did it again, and leaned down to trace a calculated path from collarbone to jaw with his tongue, grudgingly pleased when Goku thrashed and turned his head to give Sanzo better access.

Anyone could be forgiven for not noticing immediately. Even Goku didn't seem to notice when his diadem was knocked awry by his flailing, the gold circlet sliding on damp hair and finally slipping off entirely to drop down somewhere behind the pillows.

Sanzo's first clue that all was not as it should be was Goku's no-longer-short hair tickling his cheek. Or perhaps it was the boneless flex that rocked up to meet him, more demanding than Goku at his most frantic. Time slowed in that moment as Sanzo pulled his mouth from Goku's flushed skin, raised his head, and found gold eyes devouring him, slit pupils glittering by lamplight.

"Oh, fuck," Sanzo breathed, and then the world spun around him.

***

Son Goku grew into his skin all at once, felt his body panting and straining as it always did, but something was quite different. He wasn't alone, but there wasn't that knife-edged scent of adrenaline in the air, no hulking man-shape posturing aggression before him. He smelled clean sweat, the musk of skin, something bitter and sharp and _thick_ that reached down into his stomach, lower, and--

 _Oh._ That was...and that felt... _good._

There was someone on him, holding down his wrists with a light, playful grip. No, there was someone _inside_ him, a thick length stroking against something that sparked unfamiliar hunger all the way up his spine. And there were teeth at his throat, marking him casually as if they had every right to do so, a soft tongue lapping away the sting.

Son Goku almost purred, pushing up into the next thrust, and yes, that was even better.

The mouth left his throat, and his mate's head lifted to give him a puzzled stare. Son Goku remembered this one, if vaguely--a moment in the desert, heat and blood all around, and he'd pounced this man to the sand and...he didn't remember the rest. He was used to not remembering things. But he remembered the feel of this man under him, the fragility and strength and brilliance of him, and those sad eyes.

The man hissed something at him, but it wasn't a challenging hiss or a you-stay-there hiss, so it probably wasn't worth deciphering. One good push flipped them both over, and... _oh._ Violet eyes stared at him as he sat back on his heels, pushing _it_ in deeper, and it felt too good not to do it again.

He lifted himself up slowly, and this time he did purr as he sank back down. The man under him hissed again, but it sounded the way Son Goku felt, hungry and close--very close--to having that hunger fed.

Rocking up only a little, he ground himself down hard, and this time they both hissed in perfect accord. He went faster as his confidence grew, finding out what he liked best, bracing his hands on his mate's chest. The man only flinched a little when Son Goku's claws dug shallow furrows in pale skin, but the warning growl was sweet, like music. Minding his claws, he rode his mate until they both cried out, Son Goku's voice lighter and breathless, the other's wrung from him through clenched teeth.

He came back to himself slumped over the man's chest, lifting his head slightly to find the man fumbling one-handed for something behind the pillows. It probably wasn't important. Nuzzling his face against damp skin, he flicked his tongue out, grooming the man in slow, satisfied strokes, tasting salt and skin, smoke and Son Goku himself.

The searching hand stopped moving, nails scraping against wood as they clutched the bottom of the headboard.

***

That damn limiter had to be around here somewhere, and this time he was going to _nail_ it on. Seriously. It was just a matter of time before something set the monkey off to demolish everything in his path, and it was sheer dumb luck that Sanzo himself wasn't gutted or in three pieces on the floor.

Not that Son Goku _looked_ like he was considering mayhem, gold eyes peering lazily at him through mussed brown hair. Son Goku looked drowsy and content and far too pleased with himself, and Sanzo's hand itched for a fan on general principle.

Limiter first, he reminded himself, _then_ the fan.

Son Goku licked him, tongue moving slow and sensuous across his skin.

No way, he thought incredulously, and he didn't even notice when his hand stopped scrambling for the cool weight of gold. The little shit couldn't possibly want to go again already.

But there was an unmistakable hardness pressed between them, and Son Goku wriggled his hips as if uncomfortable, paused, and then thrust again with more deliberation. The idiot was looking at him, too, all expectancy and need, waiting for him to do something about it.

"I'm not a fucking god," he snapped, but by then Son Goku was crawling up his body to get at...his mouth? his neck?...and holding the monkey back took two hands. One hand fisted in Son Goku's hair, keeping sharp teeth where Sanzo could watch them, and the other fisted him off, fast and rough. Son Goku liked that, growling happily under his breath and thrusting into his hand, so fucking shameless and hungry it got him hard just watching, and what happened next wasn't even remotely his fault.

He was pretty sure the sound of something metallic slithering over the edge of the mattress and thumping to the floor was a bad sign, but by that time he was far too busy to remember why.

***

Son Goku licked his mate's small, round ear, but when no hand came up to thump his head this time, he knew the man was truly asleep. Consternated, he dropped down to sprawl across the man's chest, arms folded beneath his chin, and watched the man's eyes dart and flicker behind closed lids.

He had almost nothing to compare it to, but Son Goku was nearly positive he was happy. It was a little like fighting--the burn of fatigue in well-worked muscles, the struggle of unevenly matched bodies--except that fighting was the last thing on his mind. _More_ was at the top of the list, followed by _soon_ , but there was something else pushing at him as well, a problem he was at a loss to understand.

The thing they did still felt good, but it wasn't quite as easy as it had been the first few times. It didn't hurt, precisely, but he remembered something slick the man had put on himself, that he'd used his fingers to put inside Son Goku, and remembering _that_ made him growl hopefully under his breath, wriggling a little to see if the man would wake up.

Perhaps Son Goku should be ready for him when he did. If he found more of that slippery stuff....

Rising with smooth fluidity, he stalked for the door, his purpose burning in his mind. He _would_ be ready when his mate woke, and if anyone tried to stop him, he had his claws and his teeth for that.

He'd only just opened the door when he ran into a female with an armful of sheets. The sheets dropped in a heap as her hands flew to her mouth, though that barely stifled her scream.

More startled than threatened, Son Goku followed the direction of her gaze and glanced down at his naked body and then up again, frowning in puzzlement. Now the female had her hands clapped over her eyes, and she ran away blindly, high-pitched babble trailing behind her.

Son Goku paused a moment in thought, then looked down at the tumble of sheets at his feet.

***

It was the extended quiet that made Gojyo lift his head from the contemplation of his beer, and then it seemed like everybody was talking at once. Not that it covered the lack of noise, and he looked wistfully over at the game in the corner, watching money change hands amidst glances--the losers more awed now than resentful--aimed at the ceiling.

The thumping from upstairs had finally stopped.

"Well," Hakkai said brightly, "I think I'll finish this drink and turn in. You?"

"Might as well, now that the monkey's been banged into a coma. Think they'll let us sleep in tomorrow?"

"It's doubtful," Hakkai said kindly, "but perhaps--"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off as the door to the common room crashed open, and everyone turned to stare at the unexpected sight framed there. Wrapped in an artfully-draped sheet and not a stitch more, Goku glared as if hoping to be challenged, and it was the unconscious arrogance of his pose that alerted Gojyo to what the 'dressed in a sheet' thing had distracted him from.

The hand still outstretched and splayed across the door came complete with five sharp claws, and Goku's hair and ears had gone suspiciously long as well.

Well, shit.

"Go--" he started, but Hakkai's hand shot out and closed around his arm, silencing him with a touch. Frowning worriedly, he jerked a glance in Hakkai's direction, but the other man was staring intently at Goku--the scary version, that was--with an expression more grave than Gojyo had seen in a while.

Son Goku, sensing no opposition in his audience, stalked away from the door and approached the nearest table, ignoring the occupants in favor of their dinner. That was almost the Goku they knew, except that he usually stole food from Gojyo, not strangers. And he didn't usually poke at it first, starting with the soup and ending with the butter.

All at once, Son Goku smiled.

Claiming the entire dish, he glared around the room once more, growled low and fierce to let them know he meant business, and swept out again, the sheet fluttering in his wake.

Gojyo blinked and looked to Hakkai for an explanation, but Hakkai's brows merely twitched once before he smiled and let go of Gojyo's arm.

Something was definitely wrong with this picture.

"Er. Wasn't that...?"

"I believe so, yes," Hakkai said, sipping unconcernedly at his drink.

"Then...shouldn't we...?"

Hakkai paused, considering. It was still quiet upstairs, though the entire inn held their breaths, straining to catch the slightest sound. When nothing happened, Hakkai's inscrutable smile returned, curving only the corners of his mouth.

"I shouldn't think so. Another drink?"

Gojyo opened his mouth to protest, hesitated, and took a good long look at his tablemate. Hakkai wasn't just smiling. His eye was twinkling, too.

Gojyo twitched, then shrugged to cover it. "Yeah, sure, why not. Fuck."

"Indeed."

***

Sanzo cracked one eye open when the woman screamed, but it was a false alarm. Son Goku barely looked at her and didn't try to follow when she took off running. More importantly, the idiot didn't look back to see if she'd woke Sanzo up.

When Son Goku started down the hall, Sanzo rolled quietly off the bed and dropped to his knees, searching the floor for the missing limiter. It was still under the bed--dead-center under it, in fact--and Sanzo snarled as he made a grab for it. Whose brilliant idea had it been to make a limiter that rolled? Or one that came off at all, for that matter. At least when it broke, you could put it down to extenuating circumstances. This? This was just fucking embarrassing. What was he going to say, 'Sorry, I was too busy screwing the monkey into the mattress to notice?'

Yes, and why _hadn't_ he chanted up a new one? Considering that the sutra had been under the pillow the entire time. Not that anyone needed to know. 'Sorry, I was too busy screwing the scary fucking youkai into the mattress to remember?'

Still kneeling on the floor, he held the heavy circle of gold in his hands, the power it radiated tingling against his fingers. He wondered if it ever gave Goku a headache. He wondered if there had ever been a time when Goku hadn't _needed_ the limiter.

He wondered how the hell he was supposed to get it back on Son Goku without screwing the bastard into the mattress again.

Then he heard clawed nails ticking down the hall, coming closer.

Instinct took over. That was his only excuse. Shoving the diadem under the pillows, he crawled silently back into bed and did his damnedest to look dead to the world. He didn't even flinch when the door thumped open and closed again.

Son Goku came right up to the bed, hovering there a long moment until a strange sound, half growl and half whine, grated from his chest. Sanzo heard something being set down on the bedside table, and then Son Goku was on him. Literally. Snuffling hopefully into his neck and apparently wrapped in a sheet. 

While Son Goku was occupied, Sanzo cracked an eye open again and risked a glance to the side, wondering what Son Goku had brought back with him. He was prepared to see anything from a pair of handcuffs to somebody's severed arm, but finding a dish of butter worried him more. Since when had the little shit learned to plan ahead?

Well, score one for instinct. Playing dead was the smartest thing he'd done all night.

***

It was making his way downward with the vague idea that 'sleeping' didn't necessarily mean 'incapable' that finally woke his mate. The sudden tension of awareness was broadcast as a tightening of the lean muscles he was exploring, and he lifted his eyes just as a friendly hand grabbed hold of his hair and tugged.

Violet eyes stared narrowly down the length of his mate's body at him, so he slitted his own eyes, let his ears pull back, and flicked his tongue out for a welcoming taste. 

His mate growled something unintelligible, and when the fisted hand pulled, Son Goku followed amiably along. Maybe this would be a new game, though the old games were good, too. Whatever his mate wanted was fine with him.

Sitting back on his heels, he leaned his head briefly into the hand in his hair, his eyes closing as he savored the touch. He hadn't remembered _touch_ , but he was sure they must do it often, because it felt far too good to go without. And that reminded him....

Ducking free of his mate's easy grip, he reached for the dish he'd brought back from his foraging.

His mate's hand on his arm stopped him, the man growling something fierce. It sounded strangely like a refusal.

Cocking his head, he stared down at the man in puzzlement, trying to make sense of this strange turn of affairs. Surely his mate wasn't _tired_ \--he'd just rested. And if he wasn't tired, then--

The same growl was repeated again, more insistent than before. _'Something something food.'_

He cocked his head the other way, one ear twitching as his brows furrowed. This time he listened very carefully.

"No," his mate said slowly, and though he couldn't _quite_ make sense of the meaning behind it, he knew he'd remember the words for later. "Absolutely not. That is _food._ We're not using that."

It really did look like a 'no.' Perplexed, Son Goku growled a query, wondering if it was the dish the man objected to, because if it wasn't the dish, then it was Son Goku himself, and he didn't like that idea at all. Testing, he pulled his hand back from the table by the bed and watched his mate's face ease, just a little. Obviously he was on the right track.

Leaning down, he braced his hands on the pillows and paused just long enough to breathe in his mate's warm, smoky scent before sealing their mouths together the way the man liked. Lips parted for him slowly, but then his mate's tongue was playing with his, stroking teasingly then thrusting, hot and smooth, until Son Goku was drowning in sensation and neither one of them could breathe.

Pulling away reluctantly, Son Goku opened his eyes to find his mate panting and wild-eyed, some strange conflict struggling in the man's expression until Son Goku growled an invitation.

"Fuck," his mate said, another sound to puzzle over. "We'll raid Gojyo's room."

***

Half an hour later, it started up again. The dealer in the corner kept his cool, but two of the other players tossed their now-forgotten cards down in disgust, and the third got up and did an impromptu dance with one of the servers, crying, "Drinks are on me!"

Gojyo slumped a little, staring mournfully around the common room. "Damn it. I could be making a _killing_ here."

"I think it's considered an unfair advantage if we bet," Hakkai reminded.

"Next time we hit a town, I'm going in alone. I _mean_ it."

Hakkai smiled. "You'll put twenty down in my name, yes?"

***

Son Goku was tired. It wasn't something he had much experience with, but it felt...nice, languor dragging at his limbs as he lay sprawled across his mate's chest, his eyes heavy with sleep. Only Son Goku was afraid to sleep. He knew he forgot things. He just didn't know why.

But it was hard to stay awake with that hand petting him, stroking his tangled hair flat.

His mate murmured something at him, voice a comforting hum in his ear. He didn't know the sounds, but he didn't have to. It sounded like a purr, and Son Goku purred back and rubbed his cheek against the other's chest. Later, there would probably be something to fight--always before, he remembered the smell of blood--but for now he would rest. Not sleep. He didn't want memory to fade.

The hand stroked his hair, combing it down, and something settled cool and familiar around his temples before the world went black.

***

Sanzo's hand stopped its steady movement as Goku went limp in his arms, the wildness in him tamed again. It was almost too easy, like shooting an animal already trapped, but he wasn't stupid enough to think it was safe to let Son Goku run around loose. The first thing to offend the monkey's sensibilities would be proof enough of that, and by then it'd be too late.

Still, it was almost a pity. In four hours, Son Goku hadn't complained once about being hungry.

***

"Wow, am I starving!" Goku said, shoveling in a second breakfast, and Hakkai gave him a benevolent smile. It was obvious Goku didn't remember anything of the night before, even going so far as to hesitantly ask Hakkai if it was normal to pass out during...' _you_ know.'

Perhaps it was more accurate to say that he didn't remember anything after a certain point.

Gojyo's first instinct when he joined them for breakfast had naturally been to tease Goku, but a swift kick under the table had cured him of that. For the moment, at least. Hakkai just hoped Gojyo's restraint held until Sanzo woke, because Goku would be appalled, and if Sanzo wasn't there to prove in his...unique way that everything was fine, Goku would be the one who suffered for it.

As if summoned, Sanzo slouched in with a scowl already plastered on his face, a lit cigarette trailing a plume of smoke in his wake. He looked cranky, but no more than any man running on perhaps four hours of sleep. His gliding stalk was the same, and not, Hakkai thought, out of an attempt to hide any...discomfort.

Well, well.

Everything would have been fine if the other occupants of the common room hadn't burst into spontaneous applause the instant they caught sight of the priest.

Hakkai could move very fast when he wanted to. Although snatching the gun from Sanzo's hand was probably not the most diplomatic thing he could've done--the man found more than enough reasons for paranoia without adding to them--at least it gave the guests who hadn't dived quickly enough for cover the chance to do so.

"Good morning, Sanzo. Would you care for breakfast?" he asked while Sanzo was still merely glaring at him.

"No. We're leaving."

"But _Saaaaaanzo!_ I haven't finished yet!"

"Hey, that's right. I _heard_ the monkey got quite a workout last night. Don't you want to recharge him after that?"

Taking the gun from Sanzo was one thing. Hakkai wouldn't _dream_ of depriving Sanzo of his fan.

"Ow! Hey! Watch it, you shitty priest!"

"Perverted _kappa!_ Hit him again, Sanzo! _Ow!_ Why did you hit _me_?"

"Because you _can_ be quiet, you just _won't_ be quiet. Both of you shut the fuck up, and let's go already."

Hakkai smiled to himself and silently nodded for the servers to bring the take-out containers he'd requested an hour ago.

It was going to be a morning like any other.


End file.
